Quen's Scrape - A Privateer Short Story
by Buccura
Summary: A privateer named Quen finds himself in hot water after kiling the son of a pirate gang's boss, and is forced into hiding. He learns quickly, though, that you can only run away for so long before you are forced to face your problems head on!


Quen's Scrape

Quen's signature black Centurion jerked a bit as it exited jump, looking around to see nothing more than a couple of Merchant Draymans (Or was it Draymens?) and Militia Talons flying about the way point. "OK, so far so good." he said to himself. Naturally, one of he militiamen hailed him with the routine "Maintain speed and course for contraband search.", and then almost instantly, he followed it up with "No contraband detected, you may proceed." The militiaman sounding somewhat disappointed. Not surprising, the Troy system had been very quiet lately, with only the occasional odd pirate here and there, but was otherwise a very boring system that was hardly worth the trouble of pirates. Not when there was much more lucrative targets just one jump over.

A perfect place to lay low after pissing off an entire pirate cartel. It would at least give him a place to hide out and decide what to do next. Still being cautious, he kept his stealth systems on that kept him hidden from all radar. May not be as stealthy as the actual cloaking device the Kilrathi have worked out, but it still was very effective, and used far less energy. Besides, his black centurion against the black of space with collision lights off was very difficult to spot anyway. Of course, the stealth systems drained all his shield energy.

He set his navigation system to the agricultural planet Helen and turned on his auto pilot, leaning back in the pilot seat and took a breath. If luck was on his side he should be able to reach the planet with no difficulty. Perhaps one of the mining stations would be more secure, as they tended to be for some reason, he needed some fresh, natural air right now. Maybe go to one of those beaches on the planet, preferably an isolated one where he could lay and let the cool air brush over his body fur. Course, that might be best anyway. Fulpins very rarely left their home world, and as a result he would very much stand out among the largely human population there. Even if some Firekkans were mixed in, he'd still likely be the only Fulpin.

He heard humans refer to him as looking like a "red fox", a species on the human home world Earth (Which he thought was a hilariously unoriginal name) that bore a very striking resemblance to his own race, except they have not evolved past their quadrupedal stage. Then again, the humans resembled a primate species on his own world who have not evolved to the point that neither the Fulpins or humans have. Maybe there is credence to the theory one of the Fulpin scientists made that the same seeds of life are on every planet, it's only the evolutionary path that is different. Or, something like that. He never followed biological science that much, let alone understood it.

Quen was taken out of his wandering thoughts when his ship's computer notified him he was approaching Helen. He looked ahead at the blue planet as it grew closer and closer, until he heard a woman say "Now entering an automatic landing zone." to which he replied "Automatic landing accepted." With that, his ship was put on automatic control as it guided itself down into the planet's atmosphere. Like all space pilots, the shaking of planetary entry had become so routine that he barely even noticed it, and before he knew it he was in stable flight as his ship flew to the main star port, his mind drifting to what got him in this mess in the first place.

It was just gonna be another bounty hunt on a wanted pirate, something he had done dozens of times before. The merchants guild simply gave him a ship ID to hunt down, probable locations, and a credit payment of 15,434. Not a bad payday at all, really. They told him the target would likely be around Castor. A bit out of the way but, hey still an easy job for a single pirate, right? So, launching from New Detroit (And quite thankful for it, too, he hated it when rain soaked his fur!) he made his way from jump point to jump point to the Castor system. When he arrived, he didn't find any contacts at the jump point, so he went on a run around the nav points, setting his ship to auto pilot and went into stealth mode, killing his collision lights.

It wasn't long until he came across a Talon that had the pirate IFF and the ID number of his target. He noticed several other pirate Talons further off but he could easily take care of his mark before they got here. He moved up close to about 1000 klicks from the target before killing his stealth systems, kicking up the shields and fired his after burners right at the Talon. He locked on the target and armed his Pilum FF missiles, loaded into double launchers, and released them once he was close enough to his target that they would be very hard to avoid. The Talon attempted a loop to avoid the missile, but they both closed in too fast for him to dodge and they hit his ship, dealing massive damage, his hull almost showing entirely read on Quen's target hud. "This crate's about to explode!" the pirate broadcast out on the open channel. The other pirates nearby hailed him "Hold him off, we're on our way!" Quen couldn't help but grin, knowing they had no chance to reaching him in time.

He followed the Talon's loop, switched to his dual Tachyon guns, and fired on the now unshielded engines of the pirate's ship. It only took a couple of hits before it burst into a loud ball of flames. His mission computer registered the target killed, and very shortly after the credit payment to his account.

One of the pirates contacted him after the kill, "That was the boss' son you just killed there, you pleb!" he said, sounding a mixture of angered, but also amused? Still, it only took a short while for it to sink into Quen what he just did. His eyes went wide "Oh, shit..." he said to himself, and no doubt… "We got your ship pegged, pleb. The whole cartel knows about you!" yep, they now know the ID of his ship. His stomach twisted, now he was going to have a whole damn pirate cartel after him. He wanted to go after the Talons but, he knew it was too late. But, they could be bluffing? At the same time, though, he noticed them speeding away, possibly to meet up with some friends in the system. Quen thought for a while and ultimately decided to turn tail (not intending the pun) and run, heading straight to the jump point. He had to find someplace to lay low. Someplace out of the way and insignificant.

Quen's mind snapped back to attention when he heard the sound of several militia Talons fly by him in the parallel air lane, seeing that he was nearing the star port. He debated if he should break off from the automated landing pattern and fly off someplace remote, but, that would draw too much attention. The InSys was very strict about keeping to established lanes, especially in atmosphere. Besides, if he was alone and the pirate found him, he wouldn't be able to fight them off. He was a good pilot, but ground combat was something he was never very good at. He could remain hidden well but, in a fire fight, unless it was only him and one other person with a gun, he didn't think he would survive long. No, best to just follow along with the rules, go someplace that was fairly crowded and had InSys patrolling the grounds. He knew pirates wouldn't be stupid enough to try and take him out there. At least, he hoped.

His Centurion made it's way to the landing pad and set itself down. Switching off the power and popping the cockpit, he took off his helmet and set it aside. He then reached for his blast pistol, just in case, and hid it in his black leather jacket before climbing out of his ship. Several of the landing pad crew starred at him for a moment before he noticed they were starring and went back to their jobs. He wasn't surprised, again Fulpins were a very rare sight in the Gemini sector. Or, hell anyplace that wasn't the home world.

He made his way to the main concourse, not surprised to see that pretty much everyone here was human. Not a single non-human in sight. This did make him worry, because a walking talking "fox" stood out very much from the rest. Course, he was a bit shorter than the average human, but that didn't change the fact that all that orange fur was easily spotted amongst the range of human skin tones here.

Still, he acted as inconspicuous as possible, looking straight ahead as he made his way to the bar, avoiding the glances thrown at him as he walked along, as well as taking in the scent the human's all released. They did smell interesting. Not bad, but not good, just interesting. Of course he had no idea what was causing the scent, he was no biologist.

The bar was about as crowded as bars usually are. His eyes instinctively looked to the front table to see if anyone was there, but saw no one. Pretty much anyone who sat at those tables were people offering a job, but he wasn't looking for a job right now. He took a seat on a stool at the counter, hunching forward against the counter top and resting his arms on it.

A human with orange headfur (Ginger, he thinks they are called) came to him, Quen guessing he was maybe in his late 30s? He gave him a friendly smile "What can I get ya for, Privateer?" he asks. Quen chuckled "That obvious, huh?" "Well, you foxes don't leave your planet often, and those who do are typically looking for wet work. Plus, the leather jacket also gives it away, as well as the gun hidden inside it." Quen's ears perked, looking inside his jacket. He thought he had it well hidden? The bartender grinned "I've been doing this for 2 decades now, kid. I can spot a hidden gun even if it's hiding where the sun don't shine." he says. Where the sun don't shine? What's that supposed to mean? Humans had strange sayings. "Well, it's only for protection, I'm not here to cause trouble." "I never thought you were. Even with aliens I can spot those who are looking for trouble, and I can tell you aren't." Somehow, this man being able to read him so well relaxed him.

"But back to my original question, what can I get ya for?" Quen shrugged, feeling thirsty but not wanting to get drunk, he being quite the lightweight. "Umm, give me a virgin Gemini Blaze." "You got it, kid." he says, the bartender going to prepare the drink. His attention turned to the television showing TNN news, giving a war report.

"-fed forces continue to struggle to hold off the Kilrathi advance at Blockade Points Alpha, Charlie, and Tango. Our sources tell us that although every Kilrathi task force has been destroyed so far, it has been done so with a high casualty count. However, Admiral Terrell still insists that the Confederation has the upper hand, saying quote 'While these losses are tragic just like any loss, the fact of the matter is that there will always be casualties on both sides during war. Our intel tells us that the Kilrathi's attack force weakens considerably with each failed assault on the blockade points.'. The Admiral would not give further comment on the matter." Another news anchor began talking "Ships continues to mysteriously disappear around the Gemini Sector as-"

His attention was cut off when a glass filled with his drink was placed before him. "Here ya go, kid." "Thanks." Quen paid the amount the drink cost and awkwardly brought he glass to his lips, working his lips and tongue around the glass clearly designed for humans, but not Fulpins. He still managed to drink from it without any of it spilling out. The Bartender watched in amusement. "For what it's worth, you look more dignified than when a Firekkan drinks from one of those." That's true, watching the Firekkan drink from glasses meant for humans was quite a sight to watch, seeing them only fit in at most half their beak and then reach their tongues deep down in. "Heh, yeah." Quen says. The Bartender leans against the counter, resting his arms on the top. "So, what brings you to our little neck of the universe?" Quen thought for a moment on how to answer, then gave a shrug. "Just resting here, had a tough job recently. Finished it and got paid, though." The Bartender nods. "Yep, long as you get the job done and get paid, that's all that ultimately matters! The name's Jack, by the way." Quen debated on if he should reveal his name, but it's not like it would put him in more danger than he already is. "Quen." "A pleasure to meet you, Quen!" Jack says, reaching his hand out to him. Quen recognized this odd human gesture of hand shaking, and replied appropriately by taking his hand and shaking it.

He took another awkward drink from the glass. "So, what's been going on around here?" He asked Jack, wanting to get his mind off the Cartel situation. Jack reached for a glass and started cleaning it with a cloth as he began talking "Well, I can tell you this, Confed is asking us for more and more food to supply their war effort, so everyone is pretty much having to put in twice as much work as before to keep up with demand. Not that we're complaining too much, though, because it's been one hell of a boom for business! More tired farmers mean more business for me from folks who want to just unwind with some booze, and meanwhile they are getting all that Confed money." Quen tilted his head slightly to one side. "But isn't Troy quite a ways away from the front lines?" Jack finished cleaning the glass as he continued. "That's precisely why they asked us. Compared to the Kilrathi, pirates are nothing, especially for the ships being escorted by those fancy Confed starfighters. I just hope they can keep the Kilrathi from advancing like Terrell claims. The thought of the cats getting into Troy makes my stomach turn." Quen gave a nod, knowing that InSys wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight against the Kilrathi. He faced against a wing of Kilrathi Dralthis once. He survived, but he never wants to remember the cost of repairs. Jack leaned in a bit and spoke more softly "Hey kid, don't look but that lady in the back corner over there has been glancing at you ever since you came in here, and I don't think it's just because you're a fox." Quen's ears perked, looking around for something reflective before finding a decorative mirror that was put behind the shelves of alcohol. He looked over and found a woman in the corner Jack described, occasionally glancing over to him, not noticing that he saw her in the mirror.

"Shit, she look like a pirate to you?" He asks. Jack shrugged, reaching for another glass. "Pirates come in all shapes and sizes, kid. Not all of them wear eye patches and have peg legs." He says with a chuckle. Quen looked at him with a perked brow. Why would a pirate have a peg leg, and what is a peg leg? "Kid if you got troubles with the pirates, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I don't want any trouble in my bar." Quen debated on if he should be honest or not, not wanting to leave if she was with the same Cartel that he pissed off, because if she was then she no doubt let her friends know that he was on Helen and are on their way.

He wanted to hit himself, why did he go to the bar? That's way too obvious and of course there would be an informant there! Jack interrupted his thoughts "Your hesitation means yes, so I want you out of here. Nothing personal, kid, but we try to keep this place as quiet as possible." Quen let out a sigh and nodded, finishing his drink and walked out, looking for anything reflective that let him see what the woman was doing, but didn't find anything, and didn't want to look over his shoulder at her.

Once he got to the concourse, he looked around for someplace to hide behind. Nothing. But he didn't want to just go left or right and be in plain sight. He had to think fast before that woman left the bar to start tailing him. He looked over the ledge, seeing if he could jump it. No, too high. Times like this he wishes he was a Kilrathi and could survive such falls.

His thoughts were interrupted by the loud noise and heat of a laser flying uncomfortably close to his face, looking to the side to see on the other side of the concourse several helmeted men aiming their blasters at him, wearing padded leather vests. He would find their appearance silly, if they weren't trying to kill him. Made sense that they would want to hide their identity, anyway. He ducked low and pulled out his pistol, taking several inept shots at the men, counting 3 of them, as he quickly moved his way toward the thankfully close hanger. Their shots were missing, he was luckily quick on his feet, but his shots were missing even more. He never was much with hand guns, especially under pressure, not even remembering to hold the pistol right and instead just holding it out with a single hand. People began screaming and running for cover as the firefight ensued, several security officers running in to take shots at what he knew for sure were pirates. One of them was killed by the officers, another turning his attention to them while the remaining one kept taking shots at Quen.

He looked ahead and saw the was nearing the door that lead to the hanger bays. He stood up and made a mad dash toward it. Probably not the best idea, but he needed to get to his ship as quickly as he could. The pirate's shots got closer and closer, the sound of the beams whizzing by him causing his ears to ring, but he still managed to get to the doors to the hanger bays in time and before he knew it he found himself running down the hallway that connected to the landing pads. It was largely empty, no doubt people hiding someplace after hearing the shooting outside. He counted the numbers on the doors to his left and right, looking for the one that his ship was landed at, remembering it to be 32. He counted 19, 20, 21, 22, 23…

His counting was interrupted by the sound of laser blast rushing past him, ducking himself as he ran to try and make himself a harder target. The adrenalin picked up, causing him to run faster. 28, 29…

One blast managed to brush along his left ear, causing a terrible burn, feeling some of the fur on fire. He quickly reached up and squeeze the ear so as to put out the fire. Finally, he reached the door to dock 32 and jumped through, almost hitting the door as it slid open. Ahead was the familiar sight of his black Centurion, running to it as fast as he could he hastily climbed the ladder to the cockpit, nearly slipping in his haste, and jumped into the cockpit, closing the hatch. He felt safer, but knew that there were likely pirate ships waiting for him in space, if not someplace close by. At least he was a better with a star fighter than a firearm. He skipped most of the pre flight check up and kicked the ship fully to life. He had just barely lifted when he heard the sound of laser blasts hitting the side of his ship's hull. Luckily, the armor plating was strong enough to withstand many shots from a hand gun.

He kicked on the shields and guns and flew upward, kicking on the after burner to give himself speed. He knew he'd possibly get a speeding ticket but, frankly a 500 credit speeding ticket was a small price to pay to get not killed by angry pirates. He glanced down at his radar, expecting to see a lot of red dots of approaching pirate star fighters. Surprisingly, though, he only saw one that was closing in fast on him at his 3 o'clock and slightly above his horizon. He turned his centurion to the side a bit so his IFF could properly identify the ship.

Before it could be identified, though, the ship hailed him. On his main screen, the image of an older looking human male's face with scars all over glared at him. "You thought you could kill my boy and then just hide from us? I'm gonna make you burn, mutt." He said in a cold tone, kicking off the comm and accelerated toward Quen's ship. He had to think fast. Trying to face him dead on while he is coming down and he's going up against the planet's gravity could make him too easy a target, as it's much easier for his ship to slow his descent than him speed his ascent. So, instead, he would do the opposite of that. He turned hard and aimed straight down at the surface, kicking the afterburner and picked up speed. Looking to the sun, he saw that it was about to set, the night sky was dawning. He glanced down at his targeting computer to see the pirate was flying, to his surprise, a Thunderbolt. He couldn't stop to ponder how a pirate managed to get a hold of an advanced Confed heavy fighter, though, not with him on his tail. Somehow he was less surprised to see the Thunderbolt actually maintaining speed with him, despite the fact that Centurions are typically faster than Thunderbolts, this one would of course likely have modifications that pushed the ship beyond what it was meant to handle. He approached the ocean surface rapidly, now at 300KM… 280KM...250KM…

The ship started to rattle heavily as he reached extreme velocities, bracing himself for the dizzying feeling of the sudden leveling out. He saw the altitude show 140KM… 120KM… the pirate now 900klicks from him and closing fast. Then when he was at 60KM altitude he yanked back hard on the stick, leveling out though he still ended up skimming close to the water, looking down to see the water being forced aside. He looked above and saw the Thunderbolt still aiming toward him, not following the exact same tactic he did. That worked for him, as he was flying so fast now he would be extremely hard to hit. Quen glanced backward to make sure he was facing away from the sun, and sure enough he was. The planet was relatively small, so he was seeing the sun set behind him as he raced away from it, the area around them getting darker and darker.

His ship then shook as the sound of his shields being hit filled his ears. His eyes went wide, he was able to score a hit even at this velocity? He saw on his radar that the pirate was still above him, though he was now starting to level out, more smoothly then he did. He was gaining distance on him, but not fast enough. Though, if all went as planned, he wouldn't need to. He kept his thumb pressed on the afterburner button on his stick, leaning back hard into the seat both from the force of acceleration, and his tenseness that forced himself back, more so the latter. Several more balls of tachyon energy shot past him, a few managing to land hits. He looked back and saw the pirate was now relatively level with him, the two craft now chasing above the ocean. His ears were filled with a mix of the engine scream, tachyon energy whizzing by him, and the occasional low but still loud noise of his shields taking a hit. He wanted to take evasive maneuvers, but he had to keep going straight until he had a black night sky to utilize.

His rear shields were at 75%. They were holding well enough, but more shots were making their mark as the chase went on. Quen veered the ship side to side in a random serpentine pattern, trying to make himself a harder target to hit. Suddenly his face appeared on his comm screen "Come on mutt, don't make this too easy for me!" and then was gone just as soon as he came. His ears twitched, knowing what a mutt was and that it was meant as an insult. But, he was able to keep his head focused, knowing that in a one and one fight against a Thunderbolt, especially one that likely his illegal modifications, he would have a very difficult time. His thoughts were cut off when the pirate managed to land a series of direct hits, his rear shields now at 36%. He realized even if he didn't turn around and fight, that taunt still managed to distract him enough to become an easier target!

Fortunately, the sun was nearly completely set behind them. He felt some relief, one way or another this chase was about to end. He took a breath, hoping he won't black out and in a quick motion he killed his collision lights, turned on his stealth systems, and pulled the stick back and flied upward at a 70 degree angle. The pirate's fighter followed upward, but right before he was level with him again, Quen cut his engines, effectively killing any light that his ship would emit while also causing him to free fall. His shields were almost immediately drained out, which at least removed their signature as well. His black painted centurion was now hiding among the night sky, as well as hidden from the pirate's radar. He looked over at the Thunderbolt, which kept going in the direction that the pirate last saw him before his own ship started free falling, the pirate soon to pass over him. Good, his plan was working so far.

Quen switched his weapons over to his pilums and pulled his ship back so it was angled upward. He'd get one shot at this, so he had to make it count. He held his breath, time feeling like it slowed down as he waited for the Thunderbolt to fly past him, his finger ready on the trigger, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.

It all happened in what was hardly more than a half a second. His view was quickly filled by the sight of the large fighter, and as soon as it was he fired his Pilums, watching it rush forward on the unsuspecting craft. There was no lock, the cloaking system scrambling his own missile's guidance system, so he had to hope he had aimed right. Fortunately, he's a far better shot with a star fighter than he is with a handgun, and before he knew it, he was face to face with the bright sight of a large explosion from the impact of the warheads against the fighter, splitting it into several flaming pieces. It all happened so fast, with so many things seeming to run through his head he didn't even notice at first the deafening sound of the explosion he was so close to, his ears ringing for several seconds.

He quickly ran through his systems to kick the engines back on and kicked the afterburners and flew out into space, checking his radar and saw no one else was around. Before he knew it, he was already outside the atmosphere and in open space. Finally he released the afterburner button and his joystick all together, letting out a long breath and rested his hands in his lap, taking in all that just happened.

Quen couldn't help but laugh to himself, needing to release all the built up tension. He had just been chased by a pirate boss with vengeance on the mind, and beat him! The pirate was in a more powerful craft, but he managed to eventually get him by utilizing some guile. He couldn't help but feel rather proud of himself and what he managed to pull off. He did find it kind of odd that two Pilums was all that was needed to take him out, but then again the ship probably did have illegal modifications that pushed the ship beyond it's specifications.

Without their boss, the pirate cartel would likely either dissolve, or someone else would take control of it and not care about who killed their former boss. Hopefully, things will calm down for now, but he decided to lay extra low and not even go to one of the starports, but rather to one of the unoccupied beaches, which yeah maybe he should have done in the first place.

Quen laid back on the cool sand of the beach, still fully clothed so the sand wouldn't get in his fur and irritate him so much. His ship was landed next to him, luckily not taking any damage to the hull in his fight with the pirate boss.

He kicked his boots and socks off, letting the cool night air brush his bare feet, his head resting in his hands, eyes watching the starry sky. He still grinned at what he did, how he used some trickery to ultimately beat a more powerful foe. He knew the humans had a phrase that he felt described him quite aptly.

Sly as a fox.


End file.
